Control
by ibreak4CSI
Summary: [Gen] There's a method to Cuddy's emotions.


**Summary: **(Gen) There's a method to Cuddy's emotions.

**Rating: **PG-13/T

**Notes: **Written for the **cuddyfest** over on LJ. I did one with House's POV, then Wilson's, and now I'm finally making it to Cuddy! Reviews would be _very_ much appreciated on this one, as it's different from what I usually do. :)

**Dedication:** To **leiascully** 'cause her amazingly brilliant gen piece inspired me to finally get my butt in gear and finish this one.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything associated with the television _House_.

**Control**

She wears black for two reasons. The first is when she feels powerful. There's just something about the contrast of black against her skin when she looks in the mirror. She can't help but draw herself up to her full height, confident that she is completely, irrevocably in command. The second is when she needs to feel sexy. She sees the appreciative glances -- or, in certain cases, leers -- she gets when she's dressed in black, her perfectly coifed hair tumbling down around her shoulders. And it makes her feel pretty damn good.

She wears white when she needs to feel young, when the fact that she's 40 and still single hits her harder than usual. She doesn't know why she chooses white exactly. Purity, innocence. Those aren't the things she's going for. She just wants to feel young again.

She wears red when she's horny. No surprise there. It's a luscious, seductive color that screams "Do me," as some people would so eloquently put it. It never fails to make her laugh that he just hadto pick one of _those _days to find out her secret. That she was going to try to get pregnant. It really was just her luck it had been on that particular day when he got to lift up her skirt and place his perfectly callused hand on her ass. God, she had come close to jumping him right then and there. Or as close as she ever comes, anyway, since to jump him would give him access to unlimited blackmail for the rest of her professional career.

When she wears blue, it means that she's lonely. That happens quite often, if she were to be quite unflinchingly honest with herself, but it only affects her wardrobe if it's stronger than usual. She realizes that it's quite a cliched choice, but she doesn't do it on purpose. In fact, she thinks it's more to cheer herself up, since it used to be her favorite color. Probably still would be if she had the time or inclination to think on such things.

She loves pudding and frozen yogurt. She often eats them at the same time she wears pink. The soft, creamy texture and the pail, soothing tone always help calm her down when she's stressed. Or PMSing. Though that latter hardly comes without the former.

She's like all other women; she has times when she gazes in the mirror before she steps into the shower, and all that she sees are magnified wrinkles and non-existent rolls of fat on her perfectly lean stomach. She's usually quite conscious of her diet, but on those days, it's a SlimFast shake for breakfast, salad, no dressing, for lunch, and another salad -- though this time, she adds some turkey and low-cal dressing -- for dinner. No dessert. She rarely has time for dessert, anyway.

She has several "guilt foods." French fries, chocolate chip ice cream, and fettuccini alfredo, to name a few. She only eats them when she's feeling extremely bad about something or other. And when she doesn't have enough self control to keep herself away from the practically suicidal amounts of calories.

She's not quite sure why, but she wears her highest heels when she's in a bad mood. Maybe it's because her feet quite literally feel like they're going up in flames before she even makes it halfway across the parking lot. She's punishing herself, making it worse, giving herself an excuse to be pissed. Or maybe the pain simply distracts her from whatever was putting her in a mood to begin with. She really doesn't know. Sometimes she thinks she has a slightly masochistic side. But she really doesn't think too far into it, and she lies to herself that it's not for fear of what she might discover.

Most of the time, she wears her hair down. Or at least partially down. She started a long time ago. At first it was only because she liked the way it looked, but then it started having an added role; when her hair is down, it looks more feminine. She likes that -- that she can be a career person with an extremely prolific job, and still remain the woman that she is.

When she wears it up, it's usually a sign of dominance. A sign that says "Screw with me, and you'll be sorry." At first it feels good, but after a few hours of the regular stress of her job, plus the constant strain of a million tiny strands wound just tightly enough to be painful gives her a monster of a headache. She pops a couple Advil, the pain slowly filters away, and she's back and fully in control.

Control. It's the feeling she likes best in the world. It always has been. All through college and after, she was in control of her destiny. She clawed her way to the top, the youngest ever female hospital administrator. She controls the entire hospital, employs more than a hundred employees. She takes some sort of grim pleasure of working herself harder than some believe humanly possible. And she does it all in power suits and "Do me," heels.

She's an amazing woman. A beautiful enigma.

Her name is Lisa Cuddy.

**la fin**


End file.
